When I was a child, I spent most of my afternoons in my parent’s library, dusting the shelves and sneaking a look into the forbidden section, that’s where I found a file full of ancient letters which I adventured reading between their secretive lines. Within these yellow pages, I met new people I never thought I would ever encounter. Throughout these sneaky afternoons I would hide between the shelves and introduce myself over and over to my distant father, someone who is young foolish and genuinely romantic. My musician young dad who fell in love with my shy flirtatious mom.The sneaking around, the long nights of yearning, the agony and separation they had to go through to finally end up together and have me come to life. Those people I never had the chance to meet in my distant present; it was as if unfolding the secrets of the past and living beyond time and space. That was all introduced to me within the layers of their constant letters, which they carefully hid. Upon my discovery I contemplated for hours after each reading I would stay still fascinated by the unspeakable power of the written word. And how much of the universe, I’d come to discover. How I could bring the past to meet the present and the future to create itself; how I could break the boundaries of time and the restraints of space. How I could penetrate the heart and mind, the soul and essence of a person beyond reach and beyond sight. I was instantly entangled in those reviving emotions of my parents, the resurrection of their history, had me see the pleasurable addiction of my future,

and for now writing has become the

Hunting occupation of my present.

Serving that muse I would pledge to write, aiming to resurrect the dusty past, recreate the present and encounter the hidden ventures of the unknown.

Those mornings, dull and penetrating, when the void is carved into your soul, hollow in your remains, you search for salvation. A sense of purpose, one amongst the many overly preoccupied, you wonder, what if nothing is done, what if all the hustle just stops and remains silent for a glimpse of a second. How would it be like to have an empty life with a revived soul. what if you breath silence that fills your lungs with satisfaction, fills your soul with life and grants you a sense of purpose like no other, a sense of self-awareness, a sense of redemption.

I sit for a second that I long to sneak out of my overburdening life schedule and I imagine an alternative reality. One where I drown in my own presence and feel the achievement of the motionless. No work, no actions, no hustling, no task oriented activities. Imagining the free essence of self. Roaming around in total absurd aimlessness. Yet satisfying the most profound desires of being. Being free, being loose, being clean and neat, pure and virgin, just the mere reflection of being itself. simple, just and meaningful. Existence as it should be, as it simply is.

A second, out of for a whole day of chores and supposedly loaded with lively activities, and you spend the rest of the day, of the week, of your life, wondering, struggling, striving, merely to seek a glimpse of those rare, unique and previously valuable strings of moments. moments that comes by few, that we rejoice a little, long for, for long, and hold dear for a while longer, those are the moments we live by, through, and for.

Then, a bit by bit we drown in our own casualties, derive from the beam of the universe into our hallow graveyard, where we have drawn ourselves in sheer misery and the dream of a happier world, a world we know so intimately, encounter often. yet, . Surviving never fully living, neither counted amongst the dead.

Those mornings, you come to see life as it is, life as it’s always going to be. that’s all there is to it, and that’s what you try to content yourself with, considering yourself one of the lucky few who genuinely, sincerely and for a while, lived.

so I was thinking that I should cut the superficial articles , the alianated thoughts and openions and start giving lively facts , day to day stories , conversations , happenings mishaps and even suck ups . yet I need to know how many of u would be interested in such confessions. if u are please do motivate me to do so down belew 😉 would appreciate it much and maybe we would meet with me blowing the utmost secrets of myself 😀

Each time I watch a romantic movie, I sit there amazed, stunned and lost in contemplation. I sit there thinking of every story I went through, every crush I ever had, I meditate through all my unfinished businesses and think that , that could’ve been a great story , I could’ve made it the best ever told. Yet something more powerful grabs me back to reality and remind me of all the reasons why each one could never work. Still, I find myself somehow not the slightly convinced. Wondering what happened all the way from the beginning? What went so wrong and made all of those initial visions go away? They somehow vanish between the layers of the truth. Thus, I lay down on the couch, look around me and realize that life happens, operates in mysterious ways. Trying to understand the rules of the universe is an aim never to achieve, living my life trying to figure out things, always looking for answers and explanations, never fully enjoying the moment. Yet again, I lose the best part of it all. And even if, I sometimes stumble upon a happy incident and look ahead of me and think that because of that tiny fling, all miseries of the world are going to clear out, that somehow all problems are going to solve themselves out . Yet as always, not for long after, I would be moping on how stupid and silly I am and how foolish I could be to believe that a tiny one-time incident could make all the difference in the world. I don’t take long to realize though, that it doesn’t, it just somehow form the whole of my life. One by one carefully put down together the pieces of those tiny incidents magnetically pulled together in a stunning mosaic that highlights the core of my existence.
Sitting there, going through the scenarios of my past, I gather those pieces and I stare; at the final picture that defines all the good in life. That makes all the bad times endurable, all the tears, the sweat, the hurt and the pain worth living. Only because somewhere down the road, one of those moments will come by and lighten up my whole path. Brightening our darkest fears, filling our loneliest times with love and hope. Giving me a reason, not only to survive, lest to live, let alone, to actually appreciate the bad that gives meaning to all the good I ever encountered.
As cheesy as it seems, romance fills a great part of our lives, it represents our grief, our dreams, our hopes and wishes. It may manifest in every moment we go by, loving who we are and adoring our most precious company. Romance is the reason why we handle the tiresome agony of waiting. It is our most faithful companion when we’re feeling lonely or abandoned, as it is our greatest triumph, in times of excitement and absolute joy. Most of us live their lives wondering around thinking about all the ‘what ifs’ they could ever encounter. I might be one them by guilt, thinking that love is just a waste of time, a delusion made to keep us going and to keep us from living our lives to the fullest, always waiting for something better to come. Maybe there is nothing out there better then what u have right now at this moment. Maybe life is all there is, all what u have here and now, maybe that’s all what we get out of destiny. Nothing less, nothing more. Only that, waiting, grieving and longing for magic, is only mere plague, poising your chances of happiness every step of the way. Sucking your belief, your hopes and dreams lessening them every single second. Everything around you turn unsatisfactory, meaningless… void. While u sit there and long. Long for tomorrow that never comes, long for a day, for a person, for a moment, which hopefully will turn your head around, swap u off your feet and make sense out of your life. Well guess what! Sitting on a bench, a couch, a car seat or a crown, waiting guarantees you that none of that is going to happen. It’s always been said: that in order for our dreams to come true one have to stand up on one’s feet and chase them. Well love isn’t much different, you probably don’t need to be running around chasing the moment. But you definitely are on the urge to open up your sight, to look around you, and by that I mean literally look , observe and notice. That the change you’re looking for is right there besides you, waiting, for you to look out and seek it. Love is everywhere around us, moments’ are all around. You have a moment with that new friend you just met. That old fling you encountered. That dear college body you lost touch with. that best guy-friend whose always been there for you every step of the way, showing how much he cares and trying to teach you the real essence of it all, trying to make u see , the visible that u refuse to realize, the truth right besides you, poking you in the eyes. Appreciate what you have before long you lose it. Notice that nice neighbor of yours. That girl that always stares at you from across the room but never utters a word, that random person you cross road with every single day yet never get the reason nor the urge to get to know one and other.
Possibilities are everywhere around us. What if everything, anything, one thing at a time could happen differently? What other alternatives would we have, how many options would we get. How many times would the chance of happiness walk right besides us, gaze at us into the eyes and stay still for a moment there, waiting for us to speak, to act , to react. We think of ourselves as the victims of life; of change, of time. But maybe that obliterated chance, the one which life, destiny, is that who’s always been victimized, sentenced to an eternity of dooming patience. Waiting for us to be awakened, hoping that one day some of us, even one of us , could slow down, open his tiny mind, dig deep in that dusty heart of his and dive deep for a beat of life somewhere beaming down the darkness of negligence. And maybe, just maybe, then, we would realize how much we’d missed of those unseized chances. Those lost ‘what ifs’ may turn to what would a life be like, if that chance weren’t seized.
I for once have stumbled through great people, a great deal of experiences and moments that made me realize how much would’ve missed if I shut myself up, out or in. Any kind of bubble wouldn’t be better than putting myself out there, taking the risk and taking chances. An opportunity made for me, to trust my heart and let it be free, unchain it from all those nonsensical fears that are hunting me down, sentencing me to be trapped in a lifeless expression, lying on this dull and void couch.. now I, with the blind unfolded I saw to share the couch , to take a chance and trust my heart to love , to open up again, to try having faith in someone who might very much betray me, hurt me or leave me broken , but I might as well share a moment to live for. And that, is the thing about people, u got to open up, let them in and hope, that they won’t let you down. Who knows, they might surprise you and prove themselves worthy, if not, u might at least learn a thing or two. The point is, it never hurt to try, and even if it doesn’t, well, that is the beauty of adventure. To get to the mountain you have to cross the wood. That, is why the top is so desirable. Yet if it was easy, everyone would do it , unless you want to fall into the norm and serve the mimicry of every mistake ever made , you better sell the couch , buy a dining table! Have some friends over, create a family, live a little. If that didn’t work out! Well u can always get a new couch. Who knows maybe for two, the more the merrier 😉

Love is tricky, it’s lonely and sad. Love is delusional. Falling in love is like floating in a world of fancy, imagining different possibilities to one fairy tale that has a definite dead end, disappointment and grief. And even if love was rewarded by some sort of satisfaction, a happy ending, for sure it is a dream, sure it is an ending, an ending to all other possibilities, all other dreams. Thinking that we’re now living the dream, one gets lost in his own contemplation, thinking this is it. Well more disappointment are always yet to come, for no dream is ever to be realized as imagined, and those imperfections grieves us the most . Nothing is as hurtful as a pile of unmet expectations. That’s how love is, whether existent, longed for, chased or forever hoped to have, love is agonistic, disappointing, and lasting. Which is why we all long to have it. For honestly we can’t help it, it is our drive, our guide, our light that shine upon the darkness of each day, enlightening our desperate horizon.
Even in its absence it still is our drive, for it grants us hope, purpose, a reason to wake up every morning and to long and strive for a feeling that moves every insignificant cell in our organism, it gives it meaning. Even through the sadness of those unmet expectations; that unaccomplished love when not reunited with those we worship the most, as ironic as it seems being in love, feeling that agony still gives us satisfaction and the most extraordinary irrational feeling of happiness. I believe we’re just thankful for such a Devine mission, when one is no longer living for one’s self, no longer aimless, no longer lost. even when the ones we love are with other people, moving on with their lives, somehow we still hold on to that soul nurturing feeling, hoping that one day they would realize that such love exists and even if they don’t we for some reason still tag along dangling, and stumbling into their lives, thinking that just being part of their existence may make a difference. And even though it might not, we’re just satisfied with the mere satisfaction of longing. that somewhere out there is someone worth living for. such love should not be dismissed, nor denied, nor disguised , for that is solely a treacherous betrayal to one’s true emotions, to one’s true self , and most importantly to the ever after treasurable bless cursed upon us.
Thus here I’m, not disguising, nor hiding nor betraying, but confessing that somehow for some reason, and as unwanted as it is, I’m unfortunately dangling to a string of dead ends. This succession of unmet expectations and the funny thing is, I know that, I’m completely, insanely irrationally aware of it. but the thing is, I can’t escape even if I wanted to, that’s how love is , once in, there is no way out, nothing to do but to dive further and deeper into those scary mysterious and hope that salvation might be somewhere in there. If not just be grateful for the ride, and the chance to be alive, to feel alive and to carry on living, and loving.

Tunisians and chairs
Power, has a magnetic attraction, while Leaders, are racing for chairs and positions. We as a nation have a thing for chairs, which is perceived to be oddly ridiculous. For some piece of Wood, plastic or iron, merely a raw material, for a sitting object has been sought otherwise. Meaning is transferred, function is altered, and the most extravagant definition is bestowed on these solely, namely and simply: chairs.
So often that I notice at the metro station people fighting , actually swearing , pushing one another, losing all aspects of civility just to get a seat for no longer than 15 to 20 minutes. Pathetic don’t you think. Yet this behavior has always and ever been justified by being tired, needing rest or by the assumption of being privileged, which is what they claim to be their ticket to seize those chairs. Yet I’ve seen those who willingly give it up for others, seemingly needier and entitled to have it. Though these exact same people have already been hustling, pushing and craving just to get to that chair and then by treacherous gallantry give it up. Gazing at the core of the situation, it seems as if having the privilege of seizing the chair even for few minutes, gives them greater pleasure, even though they willingly give it away later on. At least it bestow them with such credit, promoting their self-worth and granting them mere satisfaction. For both having the chair and being indulged with the ability to master its fate and thus define its next holder grants them such pride. As such, in busses, trains and waiting rooms, chairs seems to be the center of attention, the prize to be hunted and the throne to be claimed. Even in schools the rush for the seats in the back of the class grant such comfort and brazen ego to their holders. Thus is seizing of the first seats in universities. plainly , it’s the mere value granted to a certain position to such a meaningless accessory as a chair, allowing it to become an aim to be chased. thus social norms derivate and show naked it’s stereotypical materialism . It is merely true and genuinely acknowledged « people do not seek the good in life but the goods thy can call their own”.
Being so obsessed that such a claim can bestow a person with such power and self-warship as if a new land has been conquered and as if a lost treasure has been restored. To be honest I only feel sympathetic with such perception but even more, I feel embarrassed to witness a country that I so intimately acknowledge to be my own and I so deeply love, being so shameful. I can’t bare the sight lest the thought that we’re allowing ourselves to be so vulnerable to diminishing temptations .Drifting from the bulk of every situation and focusing on the slightest meaningless minorities, while the fire is eating us up, damaging our country inside out. Yet even more turning our greatest principles to delusions. It is as useless as its ashes a country that doesn’t teach what it preaches, ruled by leaders who can merely talk the talk and shrink to their own fearful shadows unable to walk the walk. Claiming the prestige of being a leader and denying the duties accustomed to the job. As it is so cheesly said « with great powers comes great responsibilities » so is having the best seat in the house.
The father most often claims the head of the dining table, partly because we live in a patriarchal society, but most considerably because the greatest tasks are casted upon him.
Charged with management and nerve-racking tasks, the boss consequently gets the bigger desk, the most comfortable chairs , so is anyone entitled with respect , allegiance and loyalty is therefore indebted to give of himself more than he receives , more than expected and as much as he indulged himself to get.
To summon the deal, it’s unalterable to notice Tunisian’s insecurities, their longing for power and their craving for it, which is merely blindness enhanced by low self-esteem. To be true to ones’ self I may not generalize. For I’ve seen generosity and high mindedness so often that it still surprises my humble awareness that such good heartedness could exist equally escorted by such greed and shallow perception. I only hope that bringing the issue to the surface may grant it some intention to be considered and tackled as critically as it should. For probably by altering one’s self to seek greater aims may inspire greater change. As I beg you to seek wiser perception and just see chairs as significantly as their nature indulge them to be, that is merely chairs.